Page 25 of Playing for Love

“My ride is here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at six.” He ran a rough finger down the line of my jaw and it caused me to shiver. His smirk before he turned away told me he’d thought he’d excited me, thought I was as hot for him as he was for me.

“Tomorrow night,” he said over his shoulder as I followed him to the door and he left.

The shiver was about nerves and doubt. I wasn’t being fair. I had to give Tate a chance, maybe let him grow on me. Stop comparing him to Gabe.

I knew he had expectations for tomorrow night. The kiss had been a promise of more to come. But I was afraid that I’d need more time and hoped he had patience. If he didn’t, I knew it would be the end of my escape from Gabe by way of a relationship with Tate. And that would be a perfectly good waste of . . . everything.

This was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. What was I holding back for? A hopeless crush?

To hell with that. I was better than this. I’d find some nice young doctor—not much better than a football player in the time and attention department, but at least it would be away from that world. There wouldn’t be the same obvious opportunity for comparisons to damn Gabriel Wyatt. As if I had any experience with him to compare beyond flirting. The man had never even kissed me. Except in my dreams.

Or maybe I should just join a knitting club and forget about men for a while.

Fat chance. I loved men and sex too much for that.

Which made it doubly ridiculous that I was hesitating about Tate. He was prime man even whether or not he was permanent relationship material. But I remembered what he’d told me from the beginning, how he wanted a relationship, not just sex, and that made me feel that unease again, like I might be leading him on if I took that step.

Taking a deep breath as I got under my covers, I stripped down to my panties with the AC blasting. I vowed we’d have a talk before I invited him back. I’d tell Tate how I felt—leaving out the part about Gabe—that I needed to get to know him better and maybe having sex wasn’t a guarantee of a relationship, but was something we needed to explore first.

He’d either jump at the chance or walk away thinking I was a cold psycho bitch.

Either way, there was no way I could explain that my crush on Gabe was standing in the way. Because, I had to admit to myself, it was.